Aurora in Wonderland
by Bookworm210
Summary: Her grandfather used to ask her a question. A question she'd never have the slightest idea the answer to. A question 22 year old Aurora Kingsleigh asks herself now as she discovers where it came from, and the dangers of its world... "Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?" H/OC, T cause I'm paranoid.


_**Aurora in Wonderland**_

**Chapter One - Falling Down the Library Floor**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland or the book by Lewis Carroll.**

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She had no idea how she'd gotten there. She had closed her eyes for a moment, on the plane, half way to London to see her father, and when she opened them again, she certainly wasn't where she was before.

The library was bigger than any room she'd ever seen. The shelves at least reached over 20 feet tall, and stairs lead up to a balcony also filled with books. _Like Beauty and the Beast... _she thought breathlessly, turning in a circle as she traveled to the middle, where a large golden feather pen was painted on the floor. She brushed her black hair out of her icy blue eyes, though it just fell right back in her face. Her heeled black boots clicked on the floor, leggings of blue jeans brushing against each other, and a chill hit her bare arms, exposed by the purple tank-top.

"Jeez it's cold in here." she rubbed her arms, wishing she had brought her jacket. She caught sight of something white, but before she could make out what it was it disappeared. "Hello?" she called out, dropping her arms and slowly making her way to the bookshelf where she saw it. No one answered, and when she reached the shelf, nobody was there. "I'm seeing things." she muttered to herself, turning back to the large painted feather pen. And promptly, she noticed the book on the ground that had certainly not been there moments before. And the large top hat, with a pink ribbon tied around it.

She slowly picked up the book, mouth parted and eyebrows drawn in confusion. It was a journal of some sort, a smooth blue cover with delicate black designs she couldn't describe. It had a strap over it, and that strap connected to a small ring, metal she supposed, popping up from the cover. Hanging from the ring was a lock, not like the fake ones that opened with a bobby pin on girl's diary. A small, metal lock with an equally small key hole sat almost innocently on the cover, staring back up at her. She slowly lifted her hand and pressed her finger tips to the lock.

Suddenly, the book was small enough to fit in her pocket. She gasped and dropped the journal, taking a few steps back. Her eyes darted to the hat, old and worn, with pins sticking from the cloth. A piece of paper stuck up from the ribbon, along with a small feather that looked like it may have belonged to a peacock. If she squinted, she could barely make out scorch marks, a bit darker than the faded black. Carefully, she bent down and picked it up, waiting for it to do something bizarre. Though when it stayed its normal size she shrugged, and placed it upon her head. It fell in front of her eyes slightly, and she smiled, remembering how her grandfather would put his own stupidly large top hat on her small head, how he would laugh when half her face was hidden by it.

And then he'd ask the oddest thing, that he'd only ask her, and tell her that his father before him, and then his father before _him, _would each ask the very same question, saying that her great times five grandmother was the very first who asked it. Her father had never asked her that question. He'd say it's ridiculous, and would always scold her grandfather when he asked her that question. He'd say the man was mad, and grandfather would always get a very hard look, jaw set and eyes narrowed as he responded, "All the best people are."

Her smile faded, and she gently took off the top hat. She held it in both hands and stared at it, chewing her lip. Her grandfather had died two years ago. When she was twenty. He had told her, in his last breaths, to never lose her childish heart, always to love white rabbits, and to be sure to yell Hatter when an oddly dressed man started rambling with a Scottish accent. She's practically called every Scottish man she's met Hatter.

But after those three things, he had asked his question. He had looked her straight in the eye, with his wide sky blue orbs, and his crooked smile, and all his wrinkles and creases, and asked her his question. The question he asked her every day, every night, each time he saw her. The question her father despised, the one her mother loved before she left, the question that she asked herself each morning to keep herself going, even though she knew she'd never have the slightest idea of what the answer to the small riddle was.

"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?" she asked herself as her small smile reappeared. She placed the hat back on her head, the ribbon hanging on the left side of her face, and bent down to pick up the book. She pressed her fingertips to the lock once more, and not only did it grow to normal size, the lock clicked open.

The moment the small piece of metal hit the floor, thunder boomed throughout the room, and raindrops violently slapped the windows. The lights in the library suddenly went out, and about two seconds later candles that weren't there before lit themselves everywhere; on the balcony, on the bookshelves, on desks and tables that appeared from nowhere. She whirled, half expecting an absolutely horrid face to appear, half expecting to wake up from the dream turned crooked. She didn't get what she expected.

A pair of large, glowing blue-green eyes opened themselves, pupils as thin as they could go. A wide, crooked grin spread under the eyes, fitted with sharp white teeth. And suddenly, a _cat's _head, black with blue tiger stripes, appeared, attached to the eyes and grin. She was too shocked to scream, clutching the book, icy blue eyes wide behind her black hair and the slightly large top hat. The cat's ear flicked, its grin grew wider, and, much to her horror, it _answered _her question, with a smooth, mischievous voice.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

Suddenly, the solid ground under her wasn't so solid. This time she did scream, as she fell through the floor, the top hat miraculously staying upon her head. She clutched the book to her chest, staring down at the endless hole she fell through with frightened eyes. She screamed her lungs out, kicking her legs as she spun and twirled and flipped in mid-air, narrowly missing a piano and bouncing off an old, dusty bed. Finally, she crashed through something, and hit a floor back first, staring, horrified, as what she fell through repaired itself. The room suddenly turned, and she fell once more, hitting the real floor stomach first with a grunt.

This time, the top hat _did _fall off as she pushed herself up, dropping the book. "Holy cheese on a toaster..." she muttered, placing a hand on her head and blinking repeatedly as she tried to filter the black out of her vision. She thought she heard voices, small and arguing, but brushed it off. After the floated cat's head and flying piano, voices were the least she had to worry about.

"Where am I?" she lifted her head and looked around at the different doors and small table. Picking up the top hat and placing it back on her head, she stood shakily and tapped the book with her foot. It shrunk, tossed itself into the air, and was in her jeans pocket within two seconds. She shrugged, not really finding it very odd, and turned in a circle. Eyes fixing on the table, she slowly walked over to it, where a small bottle and a key sat. The bottle had a paper tied to it, and printed on the paper were the words "Drink me" which made her uneasy.

She knew her father would immediately put it down, toss the bottle away and try to find a way out. Her grandfather, though, would take the bottle and gulp it, risk and all, just to see what happens. He was always a man of curiosity, and hated when he didn't do something just for the hell of it. So, deciding to follow her grandfather's lead, she grabbed the bottle, opened it, and took a sip.

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**Hello all! This is my first Alice in Wonderland story, so I hope you like it. I re-watched the movie yesterday, and I'm halfway through reading the book, so let me just say I like Tim Burton's version a lot better than Disney's. No offense to Disney, though. Their version is cute :3**

**I'M ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH HATTER! And I love the concept of him and Alice, but I wanted to pair him with an OC, so meet Alice's great times five granddaughter, Aurora! Everybody wins... Her theme song is Ave Mary A by P!NK.  
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**Review and stay tuned!**

**~ Bookworm210**


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